Beautiful Disaster
by Blue Butterfly 128
Summary: Notorious celebutante Summer Harrison joins the WWE her Hollywood life clashes with that of professional wrestlers, and neither expects her to last. But she plans to prove them wrong no matter what it takes and who she hurts. Please review! RandyOCJeff
1. Chapter 1: The Call

**Title:** Beautiful Disaster

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I only own Summer Harrison. And I'm not making any money… which I do actually need…

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**Author's Note:** I felt a need to address this before any new readers start this story. It is not a mary sue. I can understand that it would seem that way after this first chapter, but to get more in depth of the main character's personality, you ahve to get past the first chapter. I meant for this to be a satirical social commentary/dark comedy. Obviously if people aren't getting past the first chapter, I haven't done a very good job at setting it up, but I'm still asking you to give it a chance and at least read the second chapter too. That's all I have to say right now. Thank you. Continue reading.

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"You can't be serious," Summer Harrison deadpanned as she glared up into the stoic face of her looming agent across the expensive mahogany desk in that way she so hated. He would not – _could not_ – put a sense of fashion like hers into the style-challenged world of spandex and tights. Images of ill-fitting outfits and polyester taunted her as she cringed at the possibility of being forced to wear something so tacky. Honestly, those people wouldn't know the difference between Christian Dior's Rebelle Shopper Bag and his Cannage Shopper Bag. It was just… tragic. She suddenly felt like crying at the thought of working with those fashion-illiterate people everyday.

"Completely serious," Jeremy Burrows stated, hands supporting his weight on the heavy desk so that he could tower over his client. "You're not four-years-old anymore. You need to appeal to a more mature audience and build a new fan base."

"Why, because I'm legal now? We need to bank on the fact that old pervy men can legally fantasize about me?" Summer shot back, disgusted at the thought of selling her image to a bunch of grown men with no real sex life. "Well Hilary Duff is older than I am and she still appeals to ten-year-olds!" she argued, standing up to look Jeremy in the eyes, unwilling to agree with him.

Jeremy rolled his eyes upward. "She's what, a few months older than you? And like I said, you need to establish a new fan base. Hilary Duff on the other hand already has people who know her and are interested in her work more than who she's dating and where she's partying. And what do you have?" he retorted, his voice loud than it was a second ago.

"Well," Summer started, placing her hands on her hips, "I have, or will have once I inherit it, more money than she'll ever make. I have the number seven spot on Maxim's Hot 100 List this year. I have guys lining up to buy me dinner and shower me with gifts, including her boyfriend. I have clubs paying me to party. And, oh yeah, I have this little thing called talent," she listed confidently with a proud smirk.

"No!" he practically shouted. That was how Jeremy believed that he got through to Summer. He started by talking normally, then as his speech continued, he grew louder and louder until he was practically spitting in her face because he was so into his oration, and all the while, Summer couldn't manage to get in a word. "NO!" he repeated, this time in full shouting-mode. "YOU HAVE GOSSIP COLUMNISTS PONDERING HOW YOU WENT FORM A SUCCESFUL AND CUTE LITTLE CHILD STAR TO AN OUT OF CONTROL AND SEEMINGLY OUT OF WORK PARTY GIRL! WHATEVER FANS YOU ONCE HAD, YOU LOST THE SECOND A STORY WAS PUBLISHED ABOUT YOU AND YOUR 'WILD NIGHTS' AND 'CANOODLING' WITH THIS GUY OR THAT GUY!" Summer felt that first disgusting drop of wetness hit her cheek as Jeremy yelled loudly and harshly, who obviously did not care enough to sugarcoat the matter. "So it's this," he started, his voice quieting, "or a soap opera audition."

Summer stared at him, her mouth agape. "What?" she managed to get out in the midst of her shock, anger, disbelief, embarrassment, and wanting to slap the satisfied smirk off Jeremy's face at the mere suggestion.

"The only other job offer you have right now is a spot on 'All My Children,'" he replied smugly, obviously enjoying Summer's limited options.

Summer for a brief moment thought that she had just imagined Jeremy's talking. "Are you threatening me with the Daytime Emmys?" she questioned, head tilted to the side as though she were trying to decipher a foreign language.

"As a matter of fact, I am. This is the bottom line, Summer, both jobs have corny storylines and most of the cast forces their acting. However, I figured that you might want to travel and perform live rather than work in a studio for the better part of the day," Jeremy explained, having calmed down since his tirade.

Summer nearly snorted. Did Jeremy really think that he could bribe her with domestic travel to take this job? "I don't see how either option is really going to help me come back as a serious actress…" Summer replied, sitting down in her chair with her arms crossed, waiting for him to start his bullshitting.

Jeremy walked around to Summer's side of the desk and took a seat on the edge. "Regardless of your name, directions aren't even going to consider auditioning you until you prove that you can keep a steady job and take it seriously, which is a decision that your father fully supports. So you need to be on some sort of series to prove how responsible and reliable you are, and since no respectable primetime series is going to even think about casting you, these are you last two resorts." Someone was channeling Ari Gold today, but luckily for Jeremy the attitude didn't come with the hairline.

"I'm still not sold," she responded, pursing her lips together in a pout, especially after the mentioning of her father's lack of assistance in her pursuit to gain legitimate stardom.

"Well unfortunately for you the offers are quite limited. So it's this, a soap opera, or," he said, preparing to throw down his trump card, "you can always quit and go tell Daddy that trying to act again was a serious mistake," he practically taunted her. "It's up to you."

Summer stared adamantly at her agent, eyes full of annoyance and feigned hate, a look to which Jeremy was actually quite accustomed. It would only be a temporary thing… After a minute, she sighed. "Make the call."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Summer muttered into her Blackberry as the limo pulled into the arena's parking garage, followed closely by the ever-present paparazzi. "I'm about to be surrounded by adults who roll around with each other in tights…"

Lindsay could only laugh on the other end, knowing that Summer was glaring at her that very moment. "Well I don't know what you want me to do about it, Muffin," she managed through her stifled giggles.

Please, it wasn't like Lindsay really _could_ do anything. Summer just wanted some sympathy, not her best friend laughing at her, although she knew that she would do the same thing in Lindsay's position. But she wasn't, so it didn't matter! "Write me a note to get me out of work," Summer requested, with a perfectly executed pout.

"Yeah, 'cause that'll work." Still not helping…

Summer rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Whatever. I'm here. I'll talk to you later, or something," Summer said, hanging up before Lindsay had a chance to reply. Yeah, it was bitchy, and she knew it, she just couldn't force herself to care.

Timing it perfectly, Summer slipped on her Chanel sunglass then quickly fluffed her curls and adjusted the collar of her black Gucci pea coat, finishing just as the chauffer opened the door for her. Swinging one leg out then the other, she purposely allowed her the hem of her dress to slide up further than it normally would have for the photographers. Once out of the car, she smoothed out the bottom of her green Vera Wang leaf-print bauble skirt dress and flashed the cameras a quick well-rehearsed smile. She decided not to overdo it and gave her head a flick to throw her side-swept bangs into perfect position, the smile never leaving her face. Having had enough of that, she called for her teacup Yorkshire terrier, Molly, who promptly hopped out of the limo and followed Summer obediently into the arena.

Taking off her sunglasses and throwing them back into her Fendi bag, Summer looked at the closed office door disdainfully before picking up Molly and turning on her brightest smile as she knocked. Vince McMahon opened the door and graciously ushered her in; Jeremy was already there waiting for her.

"Hi," Summer greeted, shaking hands with Vince. "I'm Summer Harrison." But it wasn't like he didn't already know that.

"Vince McMahon. I'm glad you decided to take our offer and join the company!" he enthused, offering her a seat next to Jeremy on the couch. "I'd like to introduce you to Stephanie Levesque, head writer for the show, Paul Levesque and Michael Hickenbottom who play Triple H and Shawn Michaels, respectively."

"Nice to meet you," she replied politely, impressed at their size, but refusing to be intimidated.

After the three returned the greeting, Vince continued. "So since you already have an established character, we thought that we'd use your notorious party girl persona and throw you in with DeGeneration X. Your role would basically be to help wreak havoc within the company by playing pranks and doing pretty much whatever the hell you want," Vince attempted to sell the idea to the celebutante.

Wasn't the point of the job to show that she could be serious about her job? Apparently not. Not allowing the thought to register on her face, Summer answered, "Sounds like fun!"

Vince grinned. "We have a couple other ideas for you in case you don't like that one. To begin with, Amy Dumas, who plays Lita, will be leaving the company by the end of the month, and we could possibly create a love triangle involoving you two and Adam Copeland's character, Edge. And then maybe we could do a twist and have you turn on him for John Cena in a few months. We also have Jeff Hardy, the Intercontinental Champion who's currently feuding with the Johnny Nitro, who has Melina and Kevin Federline in his corner. If you'd rather do something along the lines of a romantic storyline, putting you in Jeff's corner to balance out the playing field would probably be the easiest scenario than setting up the triangle, especially since it's been done before. And with that role, you can decide if you want to be physically active in the ring and learn a few wrestling moves. We can put you in matches against Melina and start a direct feud between the two of you if you want," Vince offered.

Put her in a ring? And with _Kevin Fedierline_? She didn't realize how low she'd sunk until Vince mentioned his name. Seriously though, it was about time Britney dropped his broke ass and got hot again! But being active in the ring was _never_ part of the deal! No one would cast her if she came in with a black eye or a broken nose, unless it was for a battered girlfriend or something, but that was the type of character she wanted to stay away from this early in her comeback. Maybe a drug addict with a heart of gold would be better… whatever the role was, it had to be that breakout role that no one would expect to steal the film. That was the best way to win over the Academy and take home an Oscar; take them by surprise. Or play a mentally challenged person, but she felt that that was too cliché in Hollywood now with Tom Hanks and Dustin Hoffman having done it successfully over the last two decades. But anyways, back to the wrestling thing… NO! "I think I'd like to get used to the working environment here before I try to do get into the ring competitively. I feel like I need to concentrate on understanding how the show works before I try to bite off even more and learn to wrestle," she declined graciously.

"Of course," Vince nodded in understanding. "But just be aware that because of the fact that you're already a public figure, you're going to have a lot of say in your character and in what direction you go for the time being. Once we get you established as a WWE Diva, which is an honor, the creative team will take over your plotlines a lot more. But for now, since we're just trying to establish you as a character, you do have the opportunity to input your own ideas."

So this is what she had been reduced to: playing herself. She might as well have done a guest spot on some thirsty and lame ABC comedy series. "Will I get the chance to ever play a character that's not really _me_?" Summer questioned after a moment.

Vince's face didn't change, but Summer, with much satisfaction, could tell that he hadn't been expecting that question from her. "Perhaps in the future. But right now we need to take advantage of the fact that people already know who you are. So rather than take you and develop an onscreen persona that we have to incorporate into our show, we're just going to use what people already know about you and incorporate the show into your life."

He might as well have said no. They needed that wildness people associated with her to draw in more viewers. She wasn't stupid. Walking into the arena and seeing all the varying colors of Barbie Dolls told her all she needed to know about how they used the women within the company. Summer noticed that Vince's face had hardened a bit since the beginning of the meeting. Guess she needed to fix that. "I guess that I'm just worried that I won't be received very well by your audience. I mean, I saw all the other Divas, and I truly am honored to have been chosen to come on board as another Diva, but I'm just worried that I won't match up to them, physically and personality wise."

There were those soft wrinkles and that grin again. "I understand that it's hard to put yourself out there for everyone to just judge. But if you decided to do the DX angle, you have these two guys to boost you up," he gestured to Paul and Mike. "They are the two hardest working talents on the roster and definite fan favorites. And if that really isn't enough, which I highly doubt, we can always turn you heel and purposely put you against the crowd," Vince assured her with a grandfatherly tone. "The great thing about this company is that we can take the storylines any direction we want. If something doesn't work, we can change it the next week."

Summer sighed inwardly, never allowing her cheerful outer demeanor to fade. This was really happening. She had no other choice. "So where do I sign up for this DX thing?" she asked, forcing a joyous laugh.

This was for her future.

For her career.

For her legacy.

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**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! So yeah, this is a new story I'm working on, and for those of you who started reading _Thicker Than Water_, I'm starting to write that again, so I'm hoping to get in an update soon. For those of you who haven't, go start reading! And for everyone, no matter what, REVIEW! I know it's not much right now, but it'll get there! Please:D Love you all! 


	2. Chapter 2: Deadly

**Title:** Beautiful Disaster

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. Still broke.

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After her debut for the following week had been planned and the meeting concluded, Stephanie called one of the other writers and had her take Summer on a tour of the backstage area to see what went into putting together the show. That was probably the biggest waste of time that Summer had ever experienced, well maybe except for the dinner she had with Joel Madden a couple years ago, because then that turned into "Summer Seduced Hilary's Boyfriend!" Other than the fact that the dinner had taken place months before he and Hilary had even started dating, Summer didn't even _want_ the Good Charlotte lead singer. And of course Hilary, like the sheep she was, believed everything the headlines said and called Summer, threatening to rip her limb from limb if Summer didn't stay away from Joel. That headline took months of damage control on her publicist's part, and people still thought that Summer had coerced Joel to cheat on Hilary, although he did still call on occasion attempting to plan a second date.

But that's not the point. Once the dragging tour was finished, she was led to the dressing room of Paul and Mike. "Well, that's it. Next week your name will be on the door with theirs. Good luck and welcome to the company," Cindy, the writer who was pretty much forced into walking Summer through all the backstage antics, said as she turned headed briskly back to what Summer assumed was her office. She obviously couldn't wait to get away from the teenager.

Honestly, it wasn't as though Summer hadn't noticed the looks. And they weren't just on Cindy's face; they were on most of the backstage crew members' faces. Once they saw her, a headline would flash in their heads and they'd wonder if it was true. Did Summer really steal someone's boyfriend? Did Summer really do drugs? Did Summer really strip on tables at clubs? Did Summer really hook up with every guy her name had ever been linked to? She could register the awe in actually seeing her, then the questioning look as they pondered the headline, then the disdain as they concluded that it must have been true. Most people assumed that if it had been printed, it was probably true. But she was used to it and could definitely handle it. Besides, why should she care what a bunch of manual laborers thought of her? She was the one making headlines, not them. People knew her name and cared about what she was doing. Without that, she was no one, and she would be damned if she just let it all slip away.

Summer stared at the door that read DX on it. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. These people didn't deserve to work with her. She was more famous for partying than they were for wrestling – if one would even call it that. Summer had dated her school's wrestling captain when she was a sophomore. She went to his matches and knew what real wrestling looked like. This was faker than Jessica Simpson's hair.

She cringed as she looked at the door again. Unable to stand the thought any longer, she walked away. Finding a deserted hallway, she leaned against the wall before slumping down to the ground. She needed some serious ass kissing right now. Digging around her purse, she finally found her Sidekick 3 and pulled it out. Searching her contact list, she found the name. She waited as the other line rang.

"Well, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again, Darling."

"Karl," she whined into her phone, "I'm pathetic." Low self-esteem always got the compliments flowing.

"Now why would you think a ridiculous thing like that, Darling?" Karl replied.

"Because I'm part of a _professional wrestling_ company," she pouted.

There was a brief silence. "Wrestling, you say? Now what on earth possessed you to go and do something like that?"

She didn't want an interrogation; she wanted sympathy! But then again, as a male model, Karl Lindman couldn't be blamed for messing this up; he had very few brain cells remaining and those were focused on walking and posing. "Does it matter? I'm here!" she snapped. "I'm so lame!"

"No, you're not!" he assured her. "Just because you've been reduced to prancing around half naked with men who are clothed even less than you are, does not make you lame."

At Karl's less than tactful statement, memories of Summer's blossoming modeling career rushed back, as did all the brain-dead conversations she'd held with the models. Maybe she should have called Duncan. A singer would have been a better first choice. All he would have to do is recite a few lines from one of his songs off his new album that would never see a radio station.

"Well I feel it. Come make me feel better!" she requested.

"Are you in England, Love?" he questioned.

"I'm at the Manchester News Arena. Can you come visit me?" she asked meekly. "I'm lonely," she added for good measure.

"How long have you been there?" he asked. Again with the interrogation. Couldn't the dude just come and comfort her?

"A few hours. But I was in a meeting for a couple hours, and then Jeremy left and took Molly with him. I don't know anyone," she answered childishly.

"All right, Love. I'll be there as soon as I can!" he promised.

"Thanks. I'll see you soon!" she said before hanging up. Of course now the rumors would start that she and Karl were dating, but that wasn't a complete lie. She had a few dinner dates with him the last time she was in England. Unfortunately for him, he was just dumber than Jessica. No matter how cute his accent was, she just could not stand listening to, "Do you like my bangs swept to the left? Or to the right?" Those were the questions she was supposed to be asking, though she already knew that to the left was the better look.

With a sigh, Summer realized that she was at a loss of what to do for the next however long it took Carl to get there. Well, Lindsay was already awake since Summer had pulled her out of sleep a few hours ago in the car.

"Bitch. You hung up on me!" Lindsay answered.

Summer shrugged though the redhead couldn't see. "Like you've never hung up on me." It was true that the two needed to work on their communication skills when they were upset, but as two divas, they didn't care and believed that not only were they entitled to hanging up on other people, but it got their point across much quicker than explaining one's emotions.

"This is the second time you've woken me up the morning," Lindsay informed her trans-Atlantic friend.

Rolling her eyes, Summer replied, "Well if you'd been a better friend the first time I called you then I wouldn't have woken you up this time."

"I'm sorry I didn't bend over for you, but it's your job now," Lindsay said, sounding like she was snuggling back into her bed. It was what, noon over there?

"I wasn't asking you to. I was asking you to really get me out of this situation!" Summer complained.

"Shit doesn't work that way. Do you remember when I had to go on national television and say that I fucking _loved_ Hilary? I didn't want to do it, but I had to and I did," Lindsay pointed out.

"Please. No one remembers that. Besides, it's a completely different situation. That took you like two seconds to say. I have to be on the fucking show for who knows how long," Summer grumbled. Seriously though, the two scenarios were as different as Ashlee's pre and post-surgery nose. Although Summer wouldn't want to say that dreaded sentence in front of a studio and to a nationwide audience either, it paled in comparison to this. This was pure humiliation. Lindsay had two seconds of embarrassment, which most people praised, claiming that she was being the bigger person of the two when in actuality her mother had threatened to ban her from after-parties for two weeks. Summer had no doubt that by next week, she would be the laughing stock of young Hollywood. Even Kristin Cavalleri would be laughing at her. Summer's eyes narrowed at the thought of the untalented teenager and her upcoming movie.

"Are you lost?" a deep voice asked. Summer could _hear_ the smirk on the guy's face.

With a roll of her eyes, Summer looked up at the guy. And the smirk? Perfectly in place. "No. Are you?" she shot back, the Laguna Beach star still on her mind.

His grin didn't falter. "Come on, I'll take you back to the main hall," he offered.

"I said I wasn't lost," she informed the guy, not bothering to hide her thoughts of his idiocy on her face.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall opposite the one that she was sitting against. "Then why are you on the ground looking so angry?"

"Because I wanted to sit down and I am angry," she responded in a monotone voice. "Is that okay with you?" she feigned concern.

He shrugged. "I'd prefer it if you'd introduce yourself," he retorted, that damn smile still on his face. Didn't the dude realize that she was in an empty hall because she wanted to be alone? And that was something that she couldn't accomplish with him standing there.

"The polite thing to do would be to introduce yourself then ask my name," she fired back. Seriously, who was this kid? And who the hell did he think he was, butting into her business like this? If he was some lowly little crew member, she was going to have to get his ass fired.

"Most people call me The Legend Killer, but you can call me Randy."

Was this kid for real?

"And you would be?"

How cute – he pretended that he didn't know who she was. "Way out of your league," she finished, eyeing him up and down. She had to admit that he had a hot body, decent face. But that attitude… it was kind of intriguing. True, she had met hundreds of guys, mostly aspiring actors, who thought they were the shit, but the only other person she knew with that big of an ego was Paris, elevating Randy to an exclusive level of conceitedness.

"And why's that?" he asked, still smiling charmingly at her. He couldn't be a mere stagehand. No, he was one of them – a professional wrestler, which would explain the body.

For the first time since she had first started talking to him, Summer smiled at him. But not her overly-rehearsed grin that she gave the paparazzi. It was a knowing smile. She had Randy completely figured out. He thought he was a young stud, and in this world, he might be. But she knew that the second they stepped outside of the arena, no one would know his name. And she was sure he knew that too, which was why he was taking advantage of his notoriety as much as he could inside the building. She stood up and with unfaltering eye contact answered, "Because people only care about you when you're in your little tights. Out on the street, you're just another face in the crowd. People don't know your name. They don't follow you for pictures and autographs. You only exist in that ring for a couple hours once a week."

Randy was left speechless, and Summer knew it.

"I guess I'll let you walk me back to the main hall. I'm supposed to be meeting someone soon anyways," she reconsidered his offer.

Randy let out a terse laugh and shook his head before extending his arm. "So I guess the rumors are true," Randy commented offhandedly as the pair began their walk.

"Which ones?" she asked cheekily.

"You're as deadly as you are beautiful," he said without even a glance in her direction.

That was a good line, she had to admit, but she couldn't resist fishing. "You're either implying that I'm ugly, or that I'm dangerous."

"Well, it's definitely not the ugly."

Only a half decent answer. Where's the rest of it? Realizing that she wasn't going to get a "rest of it," she tilted her head towards him and questioned, "So who told you that?"

"Every diva in the company who reads those celebrity tabloids."

Oh, right. There were other divas. Well that wouldn't be a problem. As long as they stayed out of her way, she'd stay out of theirs. If they were as dedicated to their readings as Randy made it sound, they would know better than to cross her. "You can't always believe what you read."

"Well, then let's say it's from first hand experience."

"If you thought that was 'deadly,'" she quoted him, "you're not going to last very long in Hollywood."

"And everyone says that you're not going to last here."

What? People honestly think that she couldn't make a lame as job like this work for her? She had learned to throw a tantrum when she was three, cry on cue at three and a half, and make other people cry by four. This was just a stepping stone. "And are you part of everyone?"

"No."

Liar. Though subtle, she could still pick up on his tiniest of hesitations. So he didn't think she'd make it either? Fine. His loss. She turned that coy smile back on before stopping him in the middle of the hall. Looking down at the ground for a moment before speaking, she raised her eyes to his and said, "Thanks. I know a lot of people think that I can do this, but I'm going to prove them wrong. And it means a lot to know that you didn't just judge me from what other people said." She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek before throwing her arms around him.

Returning the embrace, he muttered, "Who am I to judge?"

Summer pulled back, satisfied at her performance. Taking his arm again, she began walking back to the main hall.

These poor people had no idea what she was capable of…

Oh, well. Their fault!

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**Author's Note:** Three reviews?! Well, I guess there really wasn't much to review, but this chapter adds a little more meat, right? So I expect lots more for this chapter (PLEASE)! Remember, the more you review, the more I'll want to right. As far as _Thicker Than Water_, I'm having a little writer's block, which is why I started this one. Haha! So yeah, I'm working on getting over that and getting this story going too! So please, please, please review! Thanks! 


	3. Chapter 3: Trust

**Title:** Beautiful Disaster

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. But I do have a little money from my job!

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"I walk in the door, you start screaming. Come on everybody what you here for? Move your body around like a nympho," Summer sang along with her iPod as she flipped through the British _Vanity Fair_. She didn't get what was with all the actors and actresses who thought they could sing. Sure, Lindsay was a decent singer, but so was Summer, and she wasn't running out trying to get signed to some random label that was hungry enough to take her. And don't even get her started on Hilary Duff. Her movies bombed, and she couldn't sing. Why was this girl still famous?

The door swung open and the wrestlers from the meeting earlier entered the room, talking between themselves. Upon seeing Summer in the room, they stopped their conversation. They'd been talking about her. An almost undetectable flash of guilt covered their faces before they were masked with smiles.

"Summer!" Mike greeted her enthusiastically. "We were wondering when you were going to join us!"

Right…

"Yeah. We wanted to know if you'd eaten so we could get food together. You know, get to know each other better," Paul explained as they flopped onto another couch.

Right…

"But we couldn't find you," Mike finished.

Like they really minded. And it wasn't like Summer wanted to make it a habit of eating, especially since she'd just recently gotten rid of that proclivity.

"Well thanks for thinking of me," Summer gushed, closing the magazine and setting it on the coffee table before turning down her iPod speakers

What could have been an extremely awkward silence was cut off as Summer's Sidekick began ringing.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Summer! Darling! Why didn't you tell that me you'd be in England?" Kate Moss questioned excitedly on the other end. "Karl phoned me and told me that he was on his way to see you and I asked him, 'You're on a plane to L.A. right now?' and he told me that you were in the country! Do you know how ridiculous I felt hearing that you were here from Karl and not from you?"

"I'm sorry, Kate! It was a last minute kind of thing, otherwise you know I'd have called you the second my trip had been planned," Summer replied. Kate was still pretty fucked up in the head without the drugs, but that's what made her so fun whether she was coked out or not, although since she'd been clean, Summer had tried to be more discreet about her own use around Kate.

"Are you going to the World Music Awards?" Kate asked.

"Of course."

"Smashing. I'll see you there then we'll hit all the after-parties together. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," Summer grinned. Partying with Kate – she loved it! She just hoped that her even-more-fucked up boyfriend/fiancé/charity case wouldn't be tagging along with them. Sure Summer indulged every now and then, but Pete Doherty was an addict. And a pathetic one at that.

"Brilliant. See you tomorrow, Darling," Kate said before hanging up.

Summer ended the call just as another one came through. "Hello?" she answered.

"Darling, I'm here but the security guard won't allow me to enter the building," Karl explained exasperatedly.

"I'll be right there." With that she hung up the call and looked to the other two occupants of the room. "I'll be right back. I have a friend visiting. We're allowed to do that right?" she asked quickly, feigning concern. "I totally forgot to ask Mr. McMahon if it was alright!"

Paul smiled at her warmly. "Yeah, don't worry about it. I don't think Vince will mind. And if he does, just tell him that I gave you permission."

Summer smiled brightly. How did he have so much pull with the boss though? The answer to that didn't really matter though. All that "Thanks, Paul!" With that she stood up and walked out of the room.

"She's a sweet kid. Maybe we jumped to too many conclusions," Summer heard Mike re-evaluate his earlier opinion of her. Guys were so easy to read, especially ones who underestimated her. With a satisfied smirk, she turned and actually began making her way toward the arena entrance.

* * *

"Darling!" Karl exclaimed as Summer walked up to him. Yeah, he was definitely some nice eye candy…

"Do you know him, Miss Harrison?" the security guard questioned.

"Of course she does," Karl answered for her, scowling at the guard. Yeah, he was definitely an ass, but she was a bitch so it all worked out.

"I do," Summer replied politely. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. His visiting was a last minute thing," Summer explained remorsefully.

Karl pushed past the man. "Don't apologize," he instructed her. "It's his own bloody fault he can't even do his job properly." With that he leaned in and pressed his lips against Summer's, obviously rubbing it into the guard's face. "So how have you been?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, leading her away from the annoyed guard.

"How the fuck do you think I've been? I'm on a stupid fucking wrestling show now! I'm a joke!" Summer snapped. He wasn't really supposed to care – just pretend to. She found it was much more effective that way. People didn't care as much about how or why, or details like that – they just went straight to the sympathy.

Coyly, he pulled her down an empty hallway, nuzzling her neck as he whispered, "I can't get you off the show, but I can get the show off of your mind." After another kiss below her ear lobe, he pressed her against the wall before claiming her mouth with his.

Summer immediately let herself fall into the kiss. Due to the fact that he couldn't really hold a steady conversation, he generally resorted to kissing dates senseless, which Summer had no problem with. She let out a soft sigh as one hand cupped her face and the other ran lightly up and down her lower back. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Summer pulled him as close as physically possible, prompting the lustful kiss grew deeper and deeper.

"Do you guys want a room?" a voice asked, interrupting the couple.

Pulling back, Summer rolled her eyes. Mad rude. She watched as Karl glared at the intruders. "Can we help you?"

"Actually, we're looking for her," another voice replied.

Wiping the disdain off her face, Summer turned her head to look at the speakers. Not recognizing either as one of the three wrestlers she knew, she wiggled out of Karl's grasp and walked over to them. "Hi. I don't believe we've met. I'm Summer Harrison." Mere formality.

"We know." Of course they did. "Matt Hardy."

"Jeff." Brothers… Not bad… The hair could use some work, and the wardrobe would definitely have to go, but all in all, not a bad starting point.

"And what do you two need with little old me?" Summer queried innocently.

"The show's going to start in a couple hours and Vince wants you two see how everyone gets ready for the show and everything," Matt explained. The other one was definitely more attractive.

Wait. Her job was to watch people get ready? Great… more wasting of time. At least she could drag Karl with her now. "Oh. Alright. So am I just supposed to follow you two around and take notes?" Summer smirked cutely.

Jeff eyed her curiously as Matt replied, "Actually I think he wants you to hang out with Mike and Paul since you'll be working with them."

Was that a hint of a southern accent? And if one had it, the other brother must have it too. It was absolutely adorable. Not strong enough to make him sound like a complete hick, but enough to soften him up, no matter how big he was. And he still had that look on his face; openly staring at her. But it wasn't the stare she usually received from guys. Instead of feeling like he was undressing her with his eyes – the way Karl was at that moment – she felt like she was under a spotlight. Though he wasn't picturing her naked, he wasn't necessarily sizing her up like girls did either. He was just… examining her, as though he were trying to see the wheels in her head.

Looking at Matt, Summer let out a little laugh, "Of course. That _would_ make the most sense," she smiled brightly. "I guess I'll just go to the dressing room then."

"If they're not there, they might be in Vince's office," Matt offered. Jeff continued staring.

"Thanks," Summer nodded as she began walking, completely ignoring Karl, who immediately began following on her heels. She might just have to talk to Vince about her storyline options again…

* * *

Karl feathered kisses up and down Summer's neck as she sent her text to Lindsay, who was freaking out that Paris was trying to hook up with Harry. As much fun as Paris was, the girl needed to learn to back off of other girls' ex-boyfriends. Seriously, girl rule number two. So now Summer was constantly texting Lindsay to assure her that Paris didn't stand a chance with Harry. He broke up with Lindsay because she went out too much, so then why would he want to date Paris? But Summer didn't mention that part.

Closing her Sidekick, she looked back to the two wrestlers who were looking over their scripts. Was that really necessary? They weren't shooting a movie; it was a five-minute sketch. She'd hosted SNL and it wasn't that difficult.

"So…" Mike started then cleared his throat at the sight of Karl suctioned to Summer's neck, "we have about an hour before the show and… is he bothering you?" he couldn't help but ask as Summer suddenly shoved Karl away.

"I don't want a hickey," she hissed at the model as she rubbed her neck. She could feel the kisses growing longer and more focused on one spot, and she honestly hated hickeys; they just looked so tacky. "It's fine," Summer shook her head politely. "What were you saying?"

"We have about an hour before the show, but people usually get here about two hours earlier, just so they have some time to hang out and eat. Then around this point, people start trying to relax, look over scripts and change into their ring attire, but that also depends at what point in the show you're coming out and what you're doing," Mike explained.

Summer nodded absently, a look of concentration on her trained face. Did he genuinely think that she wanted to hear about what time people changed their clothes?

"So that's about it," Mike concluded awkwardly. "Do you care about anything that I just said, 'cause I sure as hell didn't," he laughed, his real personality shining through.

Opening her mouth to say something, Summer feigned embarrassment as she seemed to change her original answer to, "No."

Paul laughed from behind Mike as he watched Summer shyly bite her lip. "Well you did talk to her like she was six," Paul pointed out.

Mike rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry. Having a six-year-old at home makes me good at talking to one. No offense, Kid," he directed the last comment to Summer.

Kid? She was fucking eighteen! Nineteen in February.

"It's just, you're not almost-thirty-something like most of the wrestlers and divas, and it's been a while since I've been around someone your age," he apologized.

Summer gave him a coy smile. "Can I offer you some advice?"

"Sure," Mike accepted.

"Don't call me, 'Kid,'" Summer directed.

"I won't. It's reserved for someone else anyways," Mike responded. "Slip of the tongue."

"How old are you, exactly?" Paul questioned.

Summer straightened her back as she proudly answered, "Eighteen. But I turn nineteen in February."

"And from what we hear, you party like you're twenty-five," Paul interjected smugly.

With a shrug, Summer retorted, "I know how to have fun. Like an eighteen-year-old."

Mike shot Paul a look. "We just want you to know that you can be real with us. We know that you're a big tabloid target or whatever the hell they call you, and it's probably really scary to trust a new group of people when so many people are trying to make you out to be something you aren't. But you can trust us. You meet the right people and you're family for life."

_Lifetime_ called and they want their feelings back. Summer bowed her head down. Time to turn on the water works. Waiting for her eyes to fill with tears, she looked up at the two men with wide watery eyes. She let out a shaky sigh and nodded. "I'm not going to lie. It's hard and it scares me. Every time someone claiming to be my friend sells me out, it makes it harder and harder each time to open up to someone else. I don't know who I can trust; I don't know who genuinely cares about me." Summer stopped to let out another shaky breath. She looked up to stop the tears from falling so as not to overdo it. "But no matter how many times it happens, I keep hoping that I'll find someone I can trust."

"And you can trust us," Mike assured her.

Summer nodded as she wrapped her arms around Mike's torso from her position on the couch. Looking to Paul he saw his own guilt reflected in his friend's eyes. Turning his attention down to the teenager hugging him, Mike circled an arm around her shoulder as he lightly stroked her hair with the other. Paul stepped closer to stand next to Mike and placed a comforting hand on Summer's shoulder.

Peeking to the side, Summer smirked at Karl and the awestruck look on his face. She so deserved an Oscar.


	4. Chapter 4: The Hollywood Hierarchy

**Title:** Beautiful Disaster

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Summer and her little visitor.

* * *

"You guys look like you're having so much fun," Summer noted as she watched a replay of Mike and Paul on the television screen. 

Mike shook his head. "There's no other feeling like going out in front of that crowd," he gushed.

"And let me tell you, there are those fair-weather fans like in any other sport, but once you earn their loyalty, their yours for life, no matter if they're booing you or cheering you, they'll respect you," Paul told her firmly. Summer didn't know whether to admire or laugh at Paul for taking prancing around in tights so seriously.

Karl snorted from Summer's right side. "Respect? For what? Rolling around with other men?" he asked smugly.

Paul and Mike both stood up and walked over to Karl. Paul growled, "Listen you little pussy, you get paid to pose in pretty clothes. We put our bodies on the line every night. We take hit after hit after hit and still get up just to get hit again. We put entertaining those people before our own well-being because we love this sport so much. Now you tell me who people are going to fucking respect."

With a sneer, Karl sized up the obviously larger man. "Do you know how much I get paid per show?"

"Karl," Summer warned, looking down at the ground. The stupid asshole was going to ruin all the work she'd just done! He was already on thin ice after leaving a light mark on her neck. "Maybe you should go now."

Karl's eyebrows shot up in obvious surprise. "You must be joking," Karl stuttered.

"I'll call you later, okay?" Summer offered, standing and holding out her hand. He better just listen to her.

Accepting her hand, Karl allowed Summer to lead him out of the room toward the back entrance.

"You dumb ass!" she scolded as soon as they were a few halls away.

"What?" he questioned stupidly.

Remember… he's a model. "Look, the sooner they think they've figured me out, the sooner the company can call and say, 'Summer's a good girl. She shows up to work and does her job.' Then I'll be out of this fucking shit hole," she hissed. "And you do anything to fuck this up for me, and I'll cut your balls off." Nothing was going to get in her way, especially some dense cocky model.

Karl smirked, pulling her into his arms. "You know, you're quite sexy when you get all hostile."

Rolling her eyes, Summer looked pointedly up at Karl. "I'm not kidding."

"Oh, I don't doubt it for a second, Darling," Karl muttered before stopping her from saying another word by placing his own mouth on hers.

Why did he have to be so good at this? She closed her eyes as Karl's arms tightened around her slim waist, thoughts of wrestling slowly disappearing. Karl's hands ran up and down, softly caressing her back, following the curve of her spine down to the small of her back down to the roundness of her ass. Feeling his arousal against her lower stomach, Summer let out a man and limply circled her arms around Karl's neck.

"Let's go somewhere," Karl muttered, pulling back, lust in his eyes.

"I think-," Summer began.

"And don't even suggest my getting a room for us to meet in," Karl interrupted. The last time Karl had mentioned their going someplace more private, Summer had stood him up after telling him to get a hotel room. A few shots in her system and he thought that he could get in her pants. Please.

Summer couldn't help but giggle at the memory. Karl had then proceeded to call her seven times that night leaving messages asking her where she'd gone, then another five times through the course of the week. "I think that you should go. I'll call you later," Summer promised as she began leading Karl toward the exit again.

Karl let out a frustrated sigh, but obediently followed the socialite.

* * *

Summer walked a few steps behind Mike and Paul as they talked with a few other wrestlers. Randy talked animatedly with Paul, but Summer could feel his gaze fall on her every minute or so. And then there was the blonde one… Adam? Yeah, that was it. And… James. Jim? John. Adam and John. 

With a sigh, Summer checked her diamond-studded Rolex. It was a quarter to midnight. She still had plenty of time to go out. Who should she call? Keria? No, that girl was too wrapped up in that fugly version of Orlando, Rupert. Sienna. Summer nearly snorted aloud at the thought of voluntarily spending time with the fickle blonde.

Oh well, Summer didn't _need_ to show up with anyone. Once she arrived at the club and other people found out, they would come flocking to her.

As they group reached the door, Summer quickly fluffed her hair and slipped on her sunglasses. "Get ready, boys," she warned before Adam opened the door. At first a couple flashes went off, then once they caught sight of Summer, the rest began clicking away. Summer kept her head down, and Mike and Paul moved to walk on either side of her and block the cameras.

"So Summer, you're really a wrestler now?" one asked with a chuckle.

"Want to introduce us to your friends?" another goaded her.

"How about demonstrating some of your moves on us?" a balding one called out suggestively.

"Which one's for which night?" a fourth teased as the other laughed.

She didn't say a word in return.

Did they think they were funny? Because Summer sure as hell didn't. They'd never been so rude to her.

They quickly reached Summer's car. The driver promptly opened it and Summer climbed in fluidly, but not before whispering into the driver's ear, "Take me somewhere that's not the hotel. It was nice meeting you guys. Bye!" she quickly threw out before the driver closed the door to the tinted vehicle. She had barely controlled her urge to flip off the photographers, but since she was now in the privacy of her own limo, she screamed, "SHIT! WHO THE FUCK DO THEY THINK THEY ARE, MOCKING ME LIKE THAT?" She couldn't take just screaming at no one, so she promptly pulled out her Sidekick and scrolled to Lindsay's name. Once the naturally redheaded actress answered, Summer began her tirade. "I CAN'T FUCKING DO THIS! I THINK I LOST MORE BRAIN CELLS TONIGHT THAN ON A REGULAR NIGHT OUT! AND THE PAPARAZZI ARE LOVING THIS! THEY CALLED ME A WRESTLER!" she spat out that last word.

"Calm down," Lindsay instructed the teenager, taking a drag of her cigarette.

"CALM DOWN? I'M THROWING AWAY MY FUCKING CAREER! HOW THE FUCK DID JEREMY TALK ME INTO THIS FUCKING MESS?!" Pulling out a glass, Summer poured herself a drink from the mini bar. As she sipped the burning liquid, Summer wondered if it was worth it. Would she have been better off on a soap? At least people looked at them somewhat as actors. People looked at wrestlers and saw a bunch of empty-headed hard bodies. No acting skills necessary.

"Because you wanted to get talked into it. Because you wanted the chance to prove everyone wrong. You're so dedicated to acting, you'd do whatever you have to so that you could act again," Lindsay murmured before bursting out into laughter. "Holy shit that was deep!"

Summer wished she had some of whatever shit Lindsay was popping, or snorting, or smoking. "I guess," she sighed, finishing off her vodka. "I'll talk to you later," she said before hanging up. After throwing her phone off to the side, Summer slumped in her seat. She knew acting was worth it, but the question was if she could handle what people threw at her. Already, people in the WWE doubted her. She knew that Jeremy doubted her; he was only paid to pretend to think that she could come back. She bet that even Lindsay doubted her.

Well, fuck them all! She never relied on anyone before, why should she start now? Besides, when no one thought you could do it, it just made it that much more fun to prove them wrong, because then she had a reason to rub it in their faces after she succeeded. But of course Summer would _never_ publicly gloat, which just made people angrier because they knew they were wrong, and she would come out of the situation the bigger person.

Realizing that she wasn't the least bit dressed to go out, she found the back pack she threw into the car earlier that day. Pulling out the clothes, she quickly changed out of her dress and into more appropriate nightwear. Pulling out her ponytail, she ran her fingers through her hair to loosen up the curls. Before she reached the club, Summer had finished another glass of vodka. As she climbed out of the car, she was careful not let the short skirt reveal anything. Just because Paris and Lindsay made it a habit to show it off, didn't mean that Summer was into that. Besides, her father would kill her! And really, her father didn't need to know what kind of underwear she was wearing when she went out.

Sashaying to the front of the line, the bouncer immediately unhooked the rope, allowing her access to the club. She gave him a quick wink before slipping inside for a night to wash away the sticky sweet façade that was her "personality."

* * *

Summer awoke with one thought in her head: it was Monday again. 

She had spent the last week partying across Europe just to maintain some shred of dignity amongst her peers. So what if she didn't have auditions lined up like Lindsay did. She could still party harder than everyone else, and that was what counted in Young Hollywood. Where could you get in? Who could you be seen with? How many paparazzi followed you? For Summer it was everywhere, everyone, and all of them, at least it seemed that way to her.

What people didn't realize was that there was a partying hierarchy in Hollywood. The lowest of the low were the Association Asses. They were famous because they were associated with someone famous as his piece of ass. Above them were the Athletes. No cute name because with how much they work out, they could probably beat the shit out of you. Then there were the Reality Show Bimbos. Obviously they were the girls desperately clinging onto their last fifteen minutes of fame. Above them were the Daytime Divas, and though they are still obscurely known, they were at least on television consistently, even if it was a soap. After them the Singing Sluts, then Primetime Bitches. Above them the Silver Screen Sirens. But the top tier of the partying hierarchy was the Tabloid Queens: Paris, Nicole, Nicky, Kimberly, and Summer to a certain extent. They did no real work; they just partied, yet practically everyone knew who they were because of it. Of course you can rise from those lower levels to Tabloid Queen, but there was nothing like a girl who got her start there.

Summer refused to lose her title, even if she was forced to work on such a lowly project. Throwing back the covers to the hotel's bed, she stood, ready to make her debut that night.

* * *

Summer worked it. Her debut went flawlessly, except for that brief moment at the top of the ramp when she thought she would throw up whatever her empty stomach could scrounge up. But once she got over the initial shock of the size of the arena and the screaming people, she just strutted like no one else could.

And they loved it.

Of course they'd been expecting it with all the pictures of Summer leaving house shows for the last week, but they still loved it. She even saw a few signs with her name. It was a surprisingly good feeling.

As she prepared to leave the arena with Mike, Paul, Adam, John, and Randy, who seemed to be avoiding her, a small screaming toddler ran up to her before embracing her long leg. After a brief second of prying the tiny brunette off her leg, she scooped her up into her arms then gave her a wet kiss on the cheek.

As the little girl was wiping her cheek with a giggle, Summer asked, "What are you doing here, Baby? Did Daddy bring you?"

The child nodded with a bright smile.

"And who is this angel?" Mike asked, causing the girl to bury her face shyly into Summer's neck.

Summer looked up with a surprised look on her face. "This?" she asked looking back down at the girl in her arms. With a sigh she looked at the guys and answered, "This my daughter, Burberry."


End file.
